


Immune to Goodbyes

by todxrxki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, basically kuroo messes up big time and is too cowardly to fix it, other relationship tags to be added later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-01-29 09:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todxrxki/pseuds/todxrxki
Summary: After a fairly minor fight and a year of radio silence from his best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou is living a life of volleyball and monotony - that is, until his volleyball team gets an all-too-familiar face for a manager, and suddenly Kuroo has to deal with his past in a whole new way.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

_The second word starts the quarrel._

Kenma breathes on the other end of the phone line, breathing in and out sharply, as though he’s just taken part in an intense volleyball game. Kuroo can picture the way his molten gold eyes would narrow into slits after hearing Kuroo's harsh words. Slowly, he says, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

_The second word starts the quarrel._

“You can’t play like that,” Kenma continues, his usually soft voice with an unrecognizable edge to it. “I’ve seen your ankle. It’s nearly twice its normal size. You have to take some time off and rest or it’s only going to get worse.”

_The second word starts the quarrel._

Kuroo knows this proverb too well. It’s something his grandmother had told him time and time again, back when he used to quarrel with his father nearly daily over inconsequential matters, such as whether Kuroo should be choosing universities based off of academic merit or based off of volleyball teams, whether Kuroo should be looking towards a career in volleyball or focusing more on his intended major in Chemistry. He’d told his grandmother that his father had started it, and she’d just shaken her head at him in soft disapproval, voicing the proverb with judgment clear in her tone. He has it memorized, repeating in his head in his grandmother’s lilting voice.

He knows it too well, and yet he still speaks the second word.

“I don’t have time,” Kuroo snaps back. He glares at the phone as though Kenma can actually see it. Absently, he thinks Kenma might be able to; Kenma’s always been far too apt at reading his tone and his moods. “I start university next week, and training starts at the same time. If I’m not out there working my ass off, I won’t get a spot on the startling lineup. In fact, I might not be kept on the team at all.”

“That doesn’t matter,” comes Kenma’s response, even more intense than before.

“Of course you’d say that.” Heat flares sharp in Kuroo’s stomach, and before he can think it through the way he should, he finds himself snapping, “So what exactly do you care about, Kenma? Please, enlighten me.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. Kuroo almost feels bad, but he’s always been the type of person to strike back twice as hard when provoked. Besides, he had been kind of curious about Kenma’s response. Through the years he’s known Kenma, Kenma has shown care towards very little: Kuroo, on occasion. His parents, on occasion. The loud shrimpy from Karasuno, on occasion. Even more rarely, the members of the Nekoma volleyball club. Video games, in an odd sort of way. Unlike Kuroo, Kuroo thinks, Kenma hadn’t ever been the type to display real _passion. _So Kuroo had been curious about how Kenma would reply if challenged. It only figures that he wouldn’t have an answer at all.

“That’s right,” Kuroo says at last. “You can’t understand, because you don’t have anything you care about like I care about volleyball. You barely even like volleyball as it is. So don’t tell me it doesn’t fucking matter. It matters a lot.”

Kenma is silent again, his steady breathing the only indicator that he’s still on the other end of the phone. When he speaks at last, it comes out as more of a hiss. “If you keep playing with that ankle, you could make it worse to the point that you’d never play again.”

“I guess that’s a risk that I’ll just have to take.” Kuroo can feel his face reddening with the heat of his anger. “Say, Kenma, why don’t you go get a life of your own and stop sticking your nose in mine?”

As soon as the words pass his lips, Kuroo instantly regrets them. He wishes he could reach into his phone and pull them back out, swallow them down, ignoring the bitter taste that they leave. But it’s far too late. The words are out there. Suddenly he’s glad that he can’t see Kenma’s face. He’s well aware of the emotions that would be swimming there, the bare-boned betrayal plain in his eyes, where his emotions are always so clear.

Kenma’s voice is flat and even as he says, “You’re an asshole, Kuroo,” and then the line goes dead.

.

“Would you stop throwing shit at me?” Kuroo complains, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He pushes himself up to a sitting position by his elbows. “Oikawa, I swear to god, I’m awake.”

“Practice is in fifteen minutes, Tetsu-chan~” Oikawa sings. He bends over to scoop his volleyball bag onto his shoulder. “And Coach is already unhappy with you for being late six times this semester, you know.”

“It’s only been five times.” Kuroo sighs in defeat, though, and drags himself out of bed, hauling himself to his dresser to grab his volleyball practice clothes. “I fucking hate Mondays.”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine!” Oikawa chirps. Not for the first time, Kuroo contemplates strangling his too-cheery roommate. Oikawa has an unnatural amount of energy most of the time, but it becomes most prominent in the mornings, when any normal person would be all but a dead man walking. He sends a scowl Oikawa’s way as he tugs on his clothes. He walks over to the mirror and, as usual, makes a desperate attempt to tame his hair. Yet again, it’s to no avail.

“I’m ready,” Kuroo announces, scooping up his bag. He gives his phone a quick glance - no missed calls, no new text messages, a couple of notifications from their volleyball team’s group chat - mostly the captain offering threats to anyone who dares be late to today’s morning practice. Kuroo sighs and switches off the screen. There’s nothing he’s really expecting to see on the screen, exactly, and yet he still feels the raw sting of disappointment.

Oikawa is, unfortunately, too observant for his own good. He raises an eyebrow at Kuroo. “Expecting a text from a new fling, maybe?” he says cheekily.

Could he get suspended from the team for slapping Oikawa? Kuroo contemplates this for a moment. It’d almost be worth it, he thinks, but he should probably save it up for when Oikawa says something so positively unforgivable that Kuroo has no other choice. Instead, he just rolls his eyes. “Not all of us are manwhores like you.”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa’s voice comes out even more annoyingly squeaky than usual. “I’ve only had four girlfriends, I’ll have you know.”

“This semester, maybe.”

“When it’s not right, you know,” Oikawa says, his voice slightly more serious than usual, before it devolves into its usual obnoxious sing-song. “Besides, Tetsu-chan, a gorgeous specimen like me wasn’t meant for the life of celibacy like you seem to have doomed yourself to! I have it on good authority that you rejected Miyu-chan from the tennis club last week!”

Kuroo follows Oikawa out of the room, the haze of sleep further confusing him about the direction of their conversation. “So what?”

“So you could stand to go out and have a little fun,” Oikawa continues, tilting his head back to beam at him. “We’re young, you know? It’s the best time to make bad decisions with beautiful people!”

“I already make bad decisions every time I go out with you and Bokuto,” Kuroo says, rubbing at his temple. “I now have a lifetime ban from the convenience store down the road. Which, mind you, has made my life a hell of a lot less convenient.”

“While I’m very glad that you finally see how beautiful I am,” Oikawa says, “Bokuto brings down our average considerably, so I think maybe you should look elsewhere for beautiful people to make bad decisions with.”

A loud screech comes from behind them. Kuroo doesn’t even flinch as he spots Bokuto barreling at the two of them, mouth wide open and eyes comically huge. “I heard my name, Oikawaaaa!” he yells, looping one arm around Oikawa’s neck and grinding one of his fists into Oikawa’s hair. “Don’t talk about me when I’m not around, you asshole!”

Oikawa wrestles Bokuto off of him and then precariously adjusts his hair back to its former position. One corner of his mouth tilts up. “But we could’ve been praising you, Kou-chan, and now you’ll never know!”

“Oh, man,” Bokuto says. His hair seems to droop with his tangible disappointment.

“You need to work on your stealth, bro,” Kuroo says, lightly elbowing his side. “Then you can go spy on people for us.”

“You can find out what girls are interested in Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa says.

Kuroo nearly sighs at that, but manages to hold it in. He doesn’t know how to explain to Oikawa that he really doesn’t care about knowing which girls are or aren’t interested in him. Instead, what he says is, “I was thinking more along the lines of spying on our opponents so that we can crush their spirits, one by one.”

“You’re such a volleyball freak,” Oikawa complains. “You can have room for someone in your life even with volleyball, you know that?”

“Doesn’t seem to work out so well for you,” Kuroo shoots back. Oikawa glares back at him, his eyes dark but not with the venom he reserves only for his real enemies.

“Aw, don’t argue!” Bokuto says, looping one arm back around Oikawa’s neck and the other around Kuroo’s to bring them both in close. “The Three Musketeers aren’t s’posed to argue, y’know! We’re s’posed to be all chummy and shit!”

“Chummy?” Oikawa mouths to Kuroo over Bokuto’s shoulders. Kuroo just shakes his head slightly in response.

Bokuto’s been one of his closest friends since high school, but Kuroo thinks he’ll never be able to fully understand him. Bokuto thinks in simple terms, in absolutes: something is either all good, or it is all bad. His extremist thinking gets him into trouble more often than not, especially on the court. To Bokuto, though, Kuroo and Oikawa and their friendship are fully good. Bokuto doesn’t tolerate any disturbance in the relationship. He doesn’t really do well with any form of conflict among the people that he cares about. Which is why Kuroo’s well aware how tough it had been on Bokuto when…

Well, it’s best not to dwell on things past, Kuroo decides. What’s done is done. Some bridges he’s burned he just won’t ever be able to repair.

They make it to practice, and the coach directs a slight glare at Kuroo. Gulping, Kuroo quickly starts the warmup exercises. He stretches out his ankle, rolling it in small, slow circles, wincing at the slight tenderness of it. He’ll be extra careful today, Kuroo decides. It’s not like he has the capability to skip practice, not with the way the coach has already started to look down on him.

He turns to see Bokuto staring at him, his light eyebrows furrowed. “You good, man?” Bokuto asks in a voice too quiet for him.

“Yeah, of course,” Kuroo says, jogging over to where Oikawa’s setting up for spiking practice. As usual, Oikawa already has the player with him who’s rumored to be the team’s ace, Ushijima Wakatoshi, some kind of prodigy from Miyagi, the same province as Oikawa. However, their shared home province hasn’t built any camaraderie between the two. They get on like oil and water - Ushijima accidentally provoking Oikawa with his blunt words, and Oikawa responding with his barbed venom. Everyone on the team is of the opinion that if they could learn to get along for five seconds, they could be an unstoppable team: a supremely talented setter and a gloriously prodigious ace.

However, that may be impossible.

“All I said was that your toss was slightly too low,” Ushijima is saying in a low tone as Kuroo approaches the two.

“And I wasn’t asking you for feedback, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa snaps back in return. He tilts his body away from Ushijima and puts his hands on his hips in a childish manner. “It’s my prerogative to send the toss I think is best for the setter in the particular situation. And I think that toss was the best for you at this point in time.”

“In what situation?” Ushijima growls. “This is not an actual game. There is no situation.”

“Two blockers on the left side,” Oikawa says.

“You can’t just make up scenarios without at least alerting me first.”

As amusing as it is to watch the two of them go at it like cats and dogs, Kuroo figures it would only serve to get him more firmly planted into the coach’s bad side if he stood around and watched. So Kuroo clears his throat. “Sorry to interrupt this little flirtation session, but I gotta work on my hits, so if you wouldn’t mind sharing…”

Both Ushijima and Oikawa turn to glare daggers at Kuroo. _Success_, Kuroo thinks gleefully to himself. There’s not much he likes more in this world than provoking people. Even better when he’s able to goad Oikawa, who is so incredibly fun to mess with.

He gets Oikawa to toss for him a couple of times, and the rest of practice passes as smoothly as ever. In the locker room, Oikawa tugs his shirt on over his head and glances over at Kuroo. “Can’t believe we had to clean up after ourselves today,” he says. “Thank god we’re getting new managers soon, because the ones we have now leave so much to be desired.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes in response. “Not all of us are precious little princesses. I don’t mind doing getting my hands dirty. Y’know, Nekoma never once had a manager during my three years there, and we all survived just fine.”

“Seijoh didn’t have a manager either,” Oikawa huffs. “But that doesn’t mean we had to live like savages and do everything ourselves. Our first years were more than willing to do my dirty work~”

“Don’t think I wanna know what your dirty work entails,” Kuroo mutters under his breath, casting a sly smile at Oikawa.

Bokuto bounds up between the two of them before Oikawa can retort, a broad smile on his face. As always, Bokuto has nothing but pure and utter naivety towards the world as he asks Kuroo, “Speaking of Nekoma, where are they? How are they doin’?”

“Yaku’s at Keio. He’s the backup for now, but I doubt that’ll last long,” Kuroo says absently, chewing at the corner of his lip. “Uh, Kai decided not to play college volleyball, but I think he’s still playing in his free time. He actually went to study abroad in Europe. He sends pictures in the group chat from time to time, and I gotta say, I’m pretty damn jealous. The second years… uh, I think Yamamoto ended up at Tokai and Fukunaga at Juntendo. And the first years are still there. Teshiro is captain, thank god. Don’t think the team could’ve survived Lev or Inuoka, but Inuoka’s still the vice captain, so good luck to them.”

There’s one person that he very obviously does not mention. Bokuto knows enough, from both Kuroo and Akaashi, that he says nothing. Oikawa blessedly had never really played against Nekoma, so he doesn’t know enough to mention the missing member. There’s a momentary pause where the last person’s name should be, and then Bokuto says, “Aw, too bad that none of them ended up here! Could be nice to have some more familiar faces around.”

“You’re the only familiar face I need, bro,” Kuroo says, slinging an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders.

Oikawa just rolls his eyes at the two of them. “I won’t be made a third wheel of, I’ll have you know.” He lifts an eyebrow suggestively. “I have it on good authority that I should be everyone’s first option.”

“Send in an application and we’ll consider it,” Kuroo replies absently as he glances around the gym. All the other players have already left; there’s just Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa left in the gymnasium. He glances back over at Oikawa, who is standing up just a little bit too straight, the tension in his spine obvious. Kuroo sighs. “I thought the coach said you had to stop fighting with Ushijima.”

The tension in Oikawa’s body just increases. He snaps his head up, chewing on his bottom lip. “The coach shouldn’t ask for things that are impossible.”

“You don’t even try,” Kuroo tells him. “If anyone _else _asked you for a higher toss, you’d do it, no problem. But suddenly when it’s Ushijima, he’s the world’s biggest asshole.”

“Good thing I wasn’t asking for your feedback, since you’re not the captain,” Oikawa snaps. Kuroo just looks at him, and Oikawa groans. “Okay, okay, I know. I just hate this, okay? I spent all three years at Seijoh hating Ushiwaka’s guts, and then I get here and suddenly we’re on the same team, and I have to set for him? And he treats his setters like, I dunno, like we’re beneath him and have to cater to every word he says.”

Kuroo hums. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure Ushijima’s not used to working with a setter of your caliber.”

“A setter of my caliber?” Oikawa’s eyes widen like he’s a little kid in a candy shop. Oikawa laps up compliments as though he’s a dog that’s been deprived of water for days being given water for the first time. For this reason, Kuroo is reluctant to compliment him under most circumstances, but it’s the only way he could think of to phrase what he’s thinking. “That almost sounds like a marriage proposal, Tetsu-chan!”

Bokuto sticks out his lip. “Don’t you dare cheat on me, man!”

Kuroo tries to laugh in response, but his mind is still in another place. He knows where the rest of the Nekoma players have gone. They’re all present in the LINE group chat that Lev had insisted they create before Kuroo’s year graduated. They all check in regularly; some of them, such as Lev and Yamamoto, more often that Kuroo would like. But that one person had declined to join the LINE chat when it was first created, saying that he didn’t like group chats. He’d said they were too chaotic and overwhelming. And back then, Kuroo had let him. He’d figured that there was no way the two of them would grow apart. After all, Kenma had been a part of Kuroo’s life for practically as long as Kuroo could remember.

But now he’s regretting it. He knows nothing about what Kenma’s up to these days, and because everyone knows that Kenma is a sensitive subject for Kuroo, the group chat never even speaks his name. Maybe if Kenma was in the group chat, he’d know what Kenma’s up to these days, where he’s going for college, what he plans on doing for the rest of his life. Maybe he’d know why Kenma had never texted him after the fight they’d had. Maybe he’d be able to work up the nerve to apologize to him. Maybe they could…

“Earth to Kuroo Tetsurou,” Oikawa says, waving one spindly hand in his face. When Kuroo blinks rapidly in response, Oikawa laughs. “If you’re gonna go to space, at least take me with you!”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Kuroo shakes his head to clear it. There’s not much he can do to get rid of the sinking feeling in his chest, though. “Bo, my man, if I were gonna cheat on our bromance, it’d be with someone hotter than Oikawa. But enough of that. Let’s go get dinner, yeah?”

.

After they finish eating, Oikawa turns to Kuroo. The look on his face tells Kuroo that Oikawa’s about to try to rope Kuroo into something he very much doesn’t want to do. This suspicion is confirmed when he says, “So the team was thinking of going out for drinks tonight…”

“We have practice tomorrow,” Kuroo points out.

“And? When has that ever stopped us before?” Oikawa asks. He picks up the cup of water in front of him and takes a big, long sip. “I’m preparing myself now! Eating food and drinking water! No way will I be hungover tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Kuroo stabs at his salad with his fork. Something about the day feels foreboding, ominous. It’s been giving him a bad feeling. So he doesn’t exactly feel like going out and drinking to the point that he can’t remember it the next day, doing shit he’ll almost certainly regret, and then having a pounding headache the next day. “No thanks. Maybe this weekend.”

“When did you become such a stick in the mud?” Oikawa whines. Kuroo contemplates going home and cutting holes in all of Oikawa’s favorite clothing items. Oikawa should count his blessings, really. If Kuroo were any less nice of a person, he might have actually done it. Oikawa scowls. “Fine. I’ll have to have Bokuto be my wingman tonight then.”

Bokuto’s face lights up. “I’m a great wingman! I know how to talk people up! Y’know, my friend Oikawa over there is a setter for the volleyball team. He’s not the main setter yet, but we all think he might be this coming season…”

“No, don’t say that,” Oikawa interrupts, smacking Bokuto lightly on the arm. “You gotta say that I’m the most talented setter on the team, because of course it’s the truth! And also you can talk about my perfectly styled hair…”

Kuroo zones out as Oikawa continues his lecture of what Bokuto should say. He eats his salad, one piece at a time, but even as he sits here with his best friends, there’s something in his chest that feels as though it’s empty. He just doesn’t feel complete, doesn’t feel happy. If he’s honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time he’d felt happy.

_You’ll get there one day, _he tells himself. Maybe this year they’ll beat Keio. Maybe this year they’ll be good enough to win the tournament, maybe this year Kuroo will be able to play an entire game for the first time, maybe this year he’ll get a girlfriend and finally _feel _something, something strong and positive enough to break him out of this funk.

He takes a sip of his glass of water and makes a wish on every single star that’s in the sky tonight.

.

“My head,” Oikawa groans the next morning when their alarm goes off for morning practice.

Kuroo switches off the alarm and smirks at him. “What did I tell you, Mr. No Way I’ll Be Hungover Tomorrow?”

“All right, you got me. You’re the superior being,” Oikawa says. “I should never be allowed to make my own decisions again. Next time, physically restrain me from going out.”

Kuroo shakes his head. He steps one foot into his practice pants and says, “No way in hell. Last time I tried to physically restrain you from doing anything, you bit me on the hand.”

“It was a reflex!” Oikawa whines. He finally drags himself out of bed and patters over to the window. “At least it’s a nice day out today. Almost makes it worth it to get out of bed at such an ungodly hour.” His smile becomes slightly more twisted. “Plus, our new managers are coming in today! The more people there are to admire my beauty, the better, you know?”

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo says with a smug smile. He dangles his phone between two fingers, just in front of Oikawa’s face. “I’ll be sure to show them all of the photos of you I got the last time you got this fucked up.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen. Immediately, he starts reaching out for the phone, but Kuroo’s reflexes are still sharp enough that he can yank it just out of Oikawa’s grasp before Oikawa can get too close. “Delete them,” he hisses.

“I dunno, I think the smeared pink lipstick and messy hair is a look,” Kuroo says. “And paired with Ushijima’s baseball cap…”

“I didn’t know it was Ushijima’s!” Oikawa says loudly, and then immediately cringes, holding his head. “Let’s just go to practice. And don’t you dare show any of the cute new managers that photo.”

Kuroo can’t resist saying, “What about the non-cute ones?”

Oikawa’s glare is sharp. He spins on his heel to grab his bag and stalks out the door. “Remind me not to room with you ever again.”

When they make it to practice, there are people standing just outside of the gym, whispering to each other. Kuroo saunters up, crossing his arms in front of his body. “What’s going on? Why are we all out here gossiping like we’re elderlies at Bingo Night?”

Hisakawa, one of their fellow second-years, just gives him a tired stare. Stepping closer to Kuroo as if to not be heard, he says, “Lovely as always to see you, Kuroo. Anyways, the new managers showed up, and uh, one of them is a guy.”

“So what?” Kuroo says impassively. “Keio has a male manager. He’s super invested in the game, but doesn’t want to actually play. It’s not like it’s that uncommon. You’re all just mad because you can’t sit around staring at him all day instead of actually practicing.”

“Well, it’s not just that,” Hisakawa hedges. His eyes drift to the ground, then to the side, as if desperately avoiding eye contact with Kuroo. “Keep in mind this isn’t my own opinion, but uh, a lot of people have been saying that this guy is also… uh… rather pretty.”

“Pretty?” Kuroo can’t help the raucous laughter that escapes him at that. Hisakawa glares at Kuroo as he laughs and laughs, until Kuroo finally gets his body to calm down and, wiping at his eyes, says, “Ah, good to know that it’s because you won’t be able to stop staring at him!” He laughs again, but thinks about the people he knows, if any of them could be this new manager. He’s heard Bokuto’s old setter, Akaashi, described as pretty a few times, but Akaashi had gone to play for Keio, much to Bokuto’s dismay, stating that he wouldn’t get any playing time with someone like Oikawa on the team. And of course there’s Oikawa, but there’s no way Oikawa would be doing overtime as a manager and player. And occasionally the setter at Karasuno, Suga, but he’d been at Juntendo for the past year.

“You’re such an asshole,” Hisakawa says with a roll of his eyes. Kuroo tries not to wince at the memory that involuntarily pops into his mind, but thankfully is distracted by Hisakawa’s continuation of, “Anyways, like I said, I don’t know if I agree, but the dude is… thin? Has really long hair and stuff, and pretty eyes.”

“Pretty eyes?” Kuroo nearly chokes. “This sounds like the beginning of a romance novel, you know. _I looked into the new manager’s eyes… they were beautiful and sparkling, like pools of pond water…_”

Hisakawa looks as though he’s contemplating murdering Kuroo. He wouldn’t be the first one, Kuroo thinks wryly to himself. Pissing people off is one of the few things that Kuroo’s reliably good at. He shakes his head. “Just go in and see for yourself then, dickhead.”

As Kuroo walks into the gymnasium, Oikawa and Bokuto join him. Kuroo thinks absently to himself that there’s something familiar in Oikawa’s description, but well, there’s no way. Everyone at Nekoma had been aware of where the third years had gone to play. Kuroo had showed up at school in a Waseda hoodie in lieu of an announcement. The next day, Yaku had showed up in his Keio hoodie and all but declared war on him then and there. It’d been really funny at the time, but it feels less funny now, especially since they’d basically gotten their asses handed to them by Keio last season. They push open the doors to the gymnasium, and all at once, everyone’s eyes flick over to where the new managers are seated.

“Oh, isn’t that….” Oikawa starts to say, and Kuroo follows his line of vision to the bench, where the new manager sits. As his eyes fall on the new manager, everything hits him at once.

Kuroo is eight years old, and he’s peering out from behind his father’s leg to make contact with gleaming golden eyes for the first time. Kuroo is nine years old, and Kenma is standing above him, extending a hand so that Kuroo can pick himself up off the ground. Kuroo is eleven years old, and he’s yelling about how unfair it is that Kenma can beat him in any game, no matter what it is, while Kenma looks on with amused eyes. Kuroo is twelve years old, and Kenma is offering to play volleyball with him to take his mind off of what’s bothering him, despite Kuroo knowing how badly he doesn’t want to. Kuroo is fifteen years old, and he’s looking forward to coming home each day from school so that he can see Kenma, a distraction from the terror that volleyball has become. Kuroo is seventeen years old, and he slams the ball down on the other side and looks to see Kenma offering him a high five, right by his side, just as he’s always been.

Kuroo is eighteen years old, and he’s looking at his phone desperately at three in the morning, wondering if Kenma will ever text him again.

Kuroo is nineteen years old, and Kozume Kenma is sitting on the manager’s bench in front of him, and he is the most ethereal human being Kuroo has ever seen.

His hair is longer now, which is what the boys calling him pretty must have been referring to. The roots are still dark, but it looks like he’s dyed them somewhat recently, because there’s only a hint of dark at the center of his golden hair. It’s pulled back in a ponytail. Still, a few of the strands have escaped his ponytail to frame his face. His hair being back means that Kuroo can also see his ears, one of which has a piercing that Kuroo’s certain hadn’t been there the last time he saw him. Kenma glances up momentarily, his eyes scanning the people who have entered the gymnasium, before they drop back down to his lap. Kuroo wonders if Kenma had seen him.

Kuroo wonders what the hell is going on.

He hasn’t spoken a word to Kenma in almost a year now. After their fight, he’d waited for weeks for Kenma to text him. He’d been too scared to reach out himself, because he figured Kenma needed his space and Kenma would come to him when he was ready, just like he always had. Much to the shock of everyone who knows the both of them, Kenma had historically been the one to make the first move in every facet of their friendship. So he’d expected Kenma to drop a message in his inbox, saying he’d forgiven Kuroo, just as he always had.

Weeks went by, though, and he’d heard nothing. And the more time passed, the more nervous Kuroo became about reaching out to Kenma. So he just… let it happen, let their friendship dissolve away, bit by bit. It wasn’t like it was that difficult. Kuroo had gone to Waseda and Kenma had stayed behind at Nekoma, so their paths didn’t exactly converge ever. He only really felt the lack of Kenma’s presence in his life when he went home and distinctly avoided going into any Nekoma games or going to any Nekoma events that the entire team would be present at. But still, despite not thinking about Kenma all that much, he has been feeling empty. There is a part of his heart that Kuroo’s pretty sure had been specifically designed for Kenma, and without Kenma there to fill it, he has been all but miserable.

Still, throughout the past year, Kenma hadn’t reached out to him. In return, Kuroo hadn’t reached out to him either. Kuroo has been fairly certain that Kenma hated him, even. But here Kenma is now at Waseda, avoiding Kuroo’s shocked gaze. Kenma had _known _that Kuroo goes to Waseda. He’d helped Kuroo to make the decision. He’d sat beside Kuroo at Kuroo’s desk, poring over the offers from different schools, selecting which one would be the best fit for Kuroo. Kenma had looked up at Kuroo with a determined gaze and said, so firmly, “I’ll meet you at Waseda next year,” when Kuroo had been feeling insecure about not seeing Kenma every day.

Kuroo hadn’t thought that promise still held true.

“Kuroo,” comes Bokuto’s voice from Kuroo’s side, softer than Kuroo has ever heard it. Kuroo’s not sure what his expression must look like, but he imagines it must mirror what he feels inside - the shock, the turmoil, the nausea in his stomach, the way he feels as though he might explode if Kenma meets his gaze. He slowly turns to meet Bokuto’s gaze. Bokuto says, “Are you okay, man?”

“I had no idea,” Kuroo manages to croak out. “He didn’t… what the hell?”

Bokuto just nods in response, and seeing Bokuto’s reaction, seeing Kenma sitting on the bench, even more breathtaking than the last time Kuroo had seen him, it’s all too much. Kuroo turns over one shoulder and runs for his life.

Behind him, he hears Oikawa say, “Should one of us go after him?” in a voice just as soft as Bokuto’s and Bokuto’s answering “It’s fine, I will.” before there are footsteps following him. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone at this moment, least of all Bokuto. But it seems unavoidable, so when he gets outside, he whirls around and hisses “You knew,” to Bokuto.

Bokuto doesn’t deny it. “Yeah, he still talks to Akaashi,” Bokuto says, one of his feet moving back and forth across the ground. “I was hoping he’d tell you himself. Didn’t think I should be the one to tell you.”

“So you were just gonna let me find out like this,” Kuroo snarls. He barely recognizes his voice. “Look like a complete idiot in front of the whole ass team because I didn’t know my ex-best friend and ex-setter is joining our team as a manager.”

“Maybe people don’t know. Hisakawa didn’t,” Bokuto tries.

“Bullshit,” Kuroo growls. “We went to Nationals last year, and I’m sure a lot of them watched our match. Besides that, every childhood photo I have, almost, has him in it too. He was in my lock screen when I came here to visit. Hisakawa’s oblivious ass is probably the only one out of the loop. Fuck, I can’t believe this.”

Bokuto looks at him head on now. His big eyes are wide, but filled with sincerity as he says, “This might be a good thing, Kuroo. I know you’ve spent the past year running from him. But… it hasn’t made you happy. A total idiot could see that.”

“I’ve been fine without him,” Kuroo says, but even as the words pass through his lips, he knows that they’re lies. He tries again. “It doesn’t matter, Bo. He hates me.”

Bokuto snorts. “So you really think Kenma came to Waseda, knowing that you were here, because he hates you?”  
  
  


Bokuto has somewhat of a point, for once in his life. Kuroo hates it. It’s easier, somehow, thinking that Kenma hadn’t talked to him for all these months because what Kuroo had said had made Kenma hate him. If Kenma doesn’t hate him, then none of the past few months makes any sense at all. It seems like a waste, actually. Kuroo shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he forgot I was here.”

“He didn’t,” Bokuto says firmly. “Akaashi talked to him, back when Kozume was deciding which school he’d go to. He reminded him that, y’know, that you’re here. And Kozume said he knew.” Bokuto gives a slight shrug. “I don’t know what that means. Akaashi tried to press the issue, but Kozume refused to say anything more about it. So he’s here on purpose. We know that, at least.” Bokuto glances off into the distance. He looks serious for once in his life beyond the volleyball court, and it gives Kuroo chills. “Akaashi says that Kozume misses you.”

“Then _Kozume _could have texted me,” Kuroo spits back. Kenma’s last name sounds all but foreign on his lips, a name he’d only ever used to refer to Kenma’s parents, never to Kenma himself. It makes Kenma feel like a stranger. Which is basically what he is at this point to Kuroo. Kuroo hadn’t known that Kenma had gotten his ear pierced. He hadn’t known that Kenma was letting his hair grow out even further. He doesn’t know anything about Kenma’s life over the past year.

He wants to run away all over again.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Bokuto says brightly. “May as well face him head-on!”

“We can’t all throw ourselves face first into things, stupid owl,” Kuroo grumbles under his breath. _Two correct statements in one day?_ Kuroo thinks to himself sardonically. Bokuto truly must be on a roll.

“You’re gonna have to.” Bokuto throws an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. He starts to walk towards the gymnasium, Kuroo in tow, and although Kuroo tries to struggle out of it, his vice-like grip allows no room for escape. Kuroo can feel his heart speed up as the two of them approach the gymnasium again. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do with Kenma here. Having Kenma in his space again feels wrong, after a long year spent apart, and not knowing why Kenma’s here just makes his anxiety even worse. But there’s nothing he can do about it. He breathes in, too deep. He has to face it head on.

When he walks into the gym, his gaze drifts automatically back to Kenma, who still hasn’t met his gaze. _Breathe in. _He walks with Bokuto over to where the rest of the team is.

“So these are our new managers,” their captain, Enokida, says. “Miyazoto Aoki and Kozume Kenma, both first years. Please get along well with them.”

Kuroo feels Bokuto squeeze his shoulder, but his body is too numb to really register the motion as he chants, “Welcome to the team,” along with everyone else and pretends, for just a moment, that Kozume Kenma is just another first year stranger. Miyazoto and Kenma are directed off to get water for the team. Finally, Kuroo feels himself start to breathe normally again.

“So that was your setter, huh,” Oikawa says. When Kuroo flinches, he gives a smile that’s, for once, not snarky in the least. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t have to. But it’s also fine if you do.”

Kuroo very much does not want to talk about it, but he gives Oikawa a nod of thanks anyways. What he wants is to crawl back into bed and for all of this to have just been a bad dream. He wants his team back, his gymnasium back; he wants to be able to not think about Kenma and how much the dissolution of their ten year friendship still stings.

But life just doesn’t work that way. His first real interaction with Kenma comes a few minutes later, when, after a bit of serving practice, he heads to the bench to rest for a moment. Kenma holds out a bottle of water towards him. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he says stiffly. He still can’t bring himself to meet Kenma’s gaze. He’s not sure what exactly he’ll find there.

He can hear Kenma’s sharp intake of breath, the way that Kenma’s breath speeds up, as it always does when he’s nervous. Kuroo hates that he’s still so attuned to Kenma’s every bodily signal. He hates that it’s like nothing has changed, even though _everything _has. Most of all, he hates that Kenma says, “Kuroo. Would you mind if we… talked later?”

Every cell in Kuroo’s body wants to say no. He wants to give Kenma the cold shoulder, in hopes that Kenma will go back to wherever he came from, quit this stupid team and move on. That way he won’t have to face him. He won’t have to have awkward conversations with the person who used to be all but the center of his world. But it’s still Kenma. His gaze drifts up to the slightly pleading look in Kenma’s eyes, and there’s no way he could ever be able to say no. He exhales. “Okay. I have a little bit of time after morning practice.”

“Okay.” Kenma’s voice is soft, too soft. He doesn’t want to remember the way that Kenma had been more animated around him than almost anyone else. When they’d watch video games together and a setter would make a particularly good play, Kenma would turn to him with bright eyes and ask him over and over if he’d seen that, even though both of them had known that they were watching the same video and Kuroo had to have seen it. It had been oddly endearing. He hates to remember that he doesn’t get to see that side of Kenma anymore.

Kuroo spends the rest of practice debating if he should actually go talk to Kenma or not. It seems dangerous. However, he’s also curious about what Kenma has to say. On the other hand, though, Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing if not a coward. Especially now, when he’s had virtually no preparation time for a conversation that he’s been avoiding for a year now. So when practice finally finishes, he changes as fast as he can and then, bidding a quick goodbye to Bokuto and Oikawa, he darts out of the locker room faster even than he transverses the court, determined that he won’t be caught today.

But almost as soon as he gets out of the gymnasium, a firm “Kuroo” in a loud voice comes from behind him.

“Shit.” The voice is all too familiar. Kuroo doesn’t even need to turn around to see the depth of Kenma’s accusatory glare.

“I thought you said you had time after practice,” Kenma says. His tone doesn’t even sound all that venomous, but it sends shivers down Kuroo’s spine. “Did your plans change?”

Kuroo sighs and turns his body around slowly. It seems the universe, or rather Kozume Kenma, has made the decision for him. There won’t be any avoidance of this conversation today. “No, I guess they haven’t.” He looks up slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you here, anyways?”

Kenma just raises one eyebrow, his hand coming up to push a strand of his now much longer hair behind his ear. “I’m here because you said we could talk.”

“Not that,” Kuroo says, bile mixed with anger rising in his throat. “Why are you here? Why are you at Waseda? You knew that I was at Waseda, Kenma. You were there when I agonized about which school to choose. You helped me to make the decision. So why are you here? Why are you invading my team?”

“It’s not your team,” Kenma mutters. He kicks at the ground beneath them, hands shoved down the sides of his pants despite the fact that it’s fairly hot outside. “Maybe I came because Waseda has a good computer science department. Did you ever think about that? Not everything is about you, Kuroo, despite what you may believe.”

Kuroo falls silent. He doesn’t know what exactly he _can _say, after all, because he hadn’t considered that Kenma could’ve come here for his own reasons, and Kuroo hadn’t even been an afterthought in his plans. Somehow, that makes all of this sting even more than before. He sighs and feels his voice crack a little as he says, “So you chose to study Computer Science then?”

“Yeah,” Kenma confirms. “I did.” Another sigh, this one sounding more disappointed than anything. “I was kinda hoping things could be different. Maybe I was wrong.” His eyes harden, molten gold into metal. “I just wanted to say that I hoped we could be civil, at least, but I guess we can’t.” He lifts one hand in a half-hearted wave. “I’ll see you later, Kuroo-_san_.”

He spits the _san _out like it’s an insult, and to be honest, it feels like one. A reminder of the distance between them. A knife to the heart as Kenma walks away and leaves Kuroo bleeding out in his wake. Kuroo’s never been in a relationship serious enough to really be broken up with, but he imagines that if he had, it would feel a lot like this. The empty space in his chest has never been so noticeable before now.

He makes himself walk away. He can’t muster up the courage to call out to Kenma, not when he’s sure that Kenma’s life must be better without Kuroo, now. In the end, Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing but a coward.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey,” Oikawa says at dinner that night. He’s pressed into one side of a booth, trying to stay as far away from the person on his right, Ushijima, as possible. Kuroo had invited Ushijima merely because he’d thought it could be a very entertaining way to piss off Oikawa. He’s been proven right by Oikawa’s insistence on being as far away from Ushijima as possible and his unwilling to even glance Ushijima’s way. Oikawa continues, “You took off from practice like a bat out of hell. Where’d you go?”

“Had someone that wanted to talk to me, but I didn’t want to talk to them,” Kuroo says, praying that his friends will allow him to leave it at that.

His friends are never so merciful. “Ooh, another confession?” Oikawa asks, leaning in closer to Kuroo, across the table from him. “Such a heartbreaker, you know~ You get all these confessions but you never give any of them a chance!”

“No, it wasn’t.” Now Oikawa, Bokuto, and even Ushijima have their eyes fixated on Kuroo, so Kuroo knows he’s going to have to say _something _to get them off his back. His own fault for becoming friends with such stubborn motherfuckers, really. “Kenma wanted to talk to me.”

“Your setter,” Oikawa says, voice low. “Oh. Sorry.”

Bokuto drops a hand on his shoulder again. “Is… is everything all right, bro?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Kuroo says, resting his head in one of his hands. “He just… wanted to say he hoped we could get along.” A bitter laugh escapes from his lips. “Not like we got along for ten fucking years or anything. But it’s fine.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Bokuto asks.

Kuroo stares down at his plate. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel the necessity of eating anymore. He thinks he might throw up if he eats another bite. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. It isn’t gonna change anything.” He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the suffocating feeling in his chest all over again. “Think I’m gonna go back to the room, actually. I’m suddenly not feeling good.”

“Okay,” Oikawa says, worry evident in his tone. He exchanges a look with Bokuto across the table that Kuroo doesn’t miss.

“I hope that you feel better soon,” Ushijima says. _God, _he’s even got Ushijima worried about him. He must be the picture of devastation right now.

When he gets back to the room and collapses on his bed, burrowing under the covers, his phone buzzes on the pillow beside him. It’s a text from Yaku. _Hey, _it says. _Yamamoto says that Kenma is going to school at Waseda. Are you two good now or what? Was kinda hoping you two would end up okay._

Kuroo groans, switching off his phone and tossing it to the end of the bed, listening to it hit the headboard with a satisfying crack. He doesn’t even think he can muster up the ability to care if it’s broken. Might as well match the rest of his life at the moment, after all.

There might not be a way he can end up okay. At least, he doesn’t see it happening any time soon.

.

The next few practices are filled with Kuroo purposely avoiding being near Kenma. He interacts with Miyazoto only, gets water from Miyazoto, lets Miyazoto give him towels to mop up his sweat. Anything he can do to avoid interacting with Kenma in any way. He’s sure people notice, especially those that had played Nekoma in the past or watched Nationals, but thankfully, no one says anything about it.

Miyazoto is an interesting girl. She’s able to keep up with the team’s humor, which Kuroo appreciates, and joins in the team’s favorite hobby of picking on Kuroo. When he asks for yet another water, she rolls her eyes before she hands it to him. “I swear, you drink more than anyone on this team.”

“When you’re so hot, you need something to cool you down,” Kuroo says with a lecherous smirk.

She frowns, but doesn’t look all that annoyed. “With that bedhead, I’m not sure I buy it. But hey, I could get you a tub of ice to dump over your head. Might cool off that massive ego of yours, while you’re at it.”

“Hmmmm,” Kuroo hums. “Doubt even that could keep me down.”

Miyazoto throws a sweat rag at his head. Kuroo dodges, but then can’t help himself from glancing over at Kenma. Kenma’s handing a water bottle to Bokuto, who’s grinning and elbowing him while saying something just quiet enough for Kuroo not to be able to hear it. He unconsciously clenches his hands tighter around the water bottle. _How dare he, _Kuroo thinks. It’s not fair that Bokuto is able to waltz up to Kenma and talk to him like Bokuto’s known him his entire life. It’s _Kuroo _who has known Kenma for forever, not Bokuto. It’s Kuroo who should be sidling up to Kenma like that.

“You’re hurting your water bottle,” Miyazoto observes, glancing over at Kenma and Bokuto. “Is Kozume an enemy of yours or something?”

“Or something,” Kuroo grits out, loosening his grip on the water bottle and then taking a swig. He shrugs. “It’s fine. Just an old friend of mine.”

“Odd reaction to an old friend,” Miyazoto says. She doesn’t press the issue, though, and for that he’s grateful. Though he can’t help the suspicion that coils loose in his stomach as he sees Miyazoto glance over at him while talking to Kenma later in the day. There’s something else in his stomach, too, something he can’t identify. Jealousy, maybe? Jealousy that everyone else can talk to Kenma so easily, and yet Kuroo hasn’t had a single real conversation with him.

Kuroo misses him. There it is, all out in the open: it has been a year since Kuroo and Kenma have had any kind of a friendship, and now that Kenma is here, Kuroo misses him so badly it hurts. He misses having Kenma by his side, misses making snarky comments to Kenma under his breath, misses the feeling of having someone who knew him to the depths of his inner soul. Kenma still knows him, he’s sure, but it’s not the same when they aren’t even acknowledging each other.

Over the next few days, Kuroo’s plan works just as he’d hoped it would. He’s able to avoid Kenma almost completely. They don’t speak at practice. He talks to the other new manager, Miyazono, only. Miyazono is cool - sassy, a wicked sense of humor that Kuroo can appreciate. It’s almost too easy to avoid Kenma.

Even still, their weird limbo lasts for just a few days before it all shatters.

During practice, Kuroo feels a pair of eyes on him, observing every move he makes, scrutinizing him. He doesn’t even need to turn to know exactly who it is. Only one person has ever watched him with a sort of intensity that produces this chill down his spine. He’s torn entirely on how to feel; part of him is annoyed, because Kenma doesn’t have the right to look at him like that anymore, not when they’re all but strangers. Another part of him, though, is curious. He’s gotten no answers at all from Kenma thus far. He wants to know why Kenma’s here, why he’s watching Kuroo so intently, what the look in his too dark eyes means when they make momentary, accidental eye contact.

After practice, Kenma catches Kuroo on the way to the locker room and breaks the silence that’s settled over them.

“You’re jumping too early on your blocks,” he says. He doesn’t make eye contact with Kuroo, but his words are spoken with a firmness that Kenma reserves for those on his team. “You’d reach the peak of your jump at a more appropriate time if you’d jump a few seconds later.”

Kuroo scowls. He ruffles his own dark, too wild hair with his towel, leaving an uneasy silence hanging in the air between them. Finally, he spits, “What, did Coach die and leave you in charge of the team?”

“No,” Kenma replies mildly. Kuroo recognizes the undertone of annoyance in his voice, but Kenma’s always been better at masking his real emotions than Kuroo, who wears everything like a badge of honor on his chest. “I was asked to watch the practice and give my thoughts to the players, actually. I didn’t want to be a manager just to fetch the players water.”

Oh. So he hadn’t just been giving Kuroo advice out of spite, then. Kuroo’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse. At least if he was spiteful, that would give Kuroo the reassurance that he felt _something_ towards Kuroo. Kuroo frowns. “Okay. Whatever.”

Kenma’s eyes flash, but he doesn’t retort. “Jump a little earlier for your blocks. And I don’t think you’re one hundred percent in tune with Oikawa’s tosses yet. The two of you could stand to practice a little more together, Ushijima as well.”

“Of course you’re all for extra practice when you’re not the one who has to do it,” Kuroo grumbles.

Kenma’s better at masking his emotions than Kuroo, that much is for sure, but Kuroo also still has the uncanny ability to read Kenma even when he doesn’t fully display his emotions. He can tell the way that Kenma’s mouth twitches and his eyes brighten means that he’s holding back a laugh. God, what he’d give to be able to hear Kenma’s laugh again, soft and quiet, music to his ears.

Kenma doesn’t laugh, though. He just lifts an eyebrow. “I’m just recommending what’s best for your team,” he says. “I’ll talk to the coach about your workout routine too. Your upper body could use some more strength.”

_Low, _Kuroo thinks, his heart sinking as Kenma bids him a stiff goodbye and walks away. Has he been giving every player critiques on the build of their muscles? Or is this just for him? There is a part of him, though, that has to wonder just how closely Kenma had been observing him, if he’d even noticed his muscles.

Another day passes, and yet again, Kuroo lets Kenma slip away.

.

The fact that Kuroo now has to interact with Kenma on a consistent basis, though, becomes a problem. He’s too hyperaware of Kenma’s gaze on him during every practice. He doesn’t really expect anything positive from Kenma after practice, but he still can’t help the way it stings to hear Kenma’s relentless critiques. Besides these moments, though, they don’t interact. In fact, Kuroo goes to any means possible to avoid Kenma.

One day, when he’s walking around campus with Oikawa, he spots Kenma walking down the path towards them. He frantically grabs onto Oikawa’s arm and drags him behind a tree. Oikawa grins lecherously at him. “Ah, Tetsu-chan! I know I’m irresistible and all, but I do require a substantial amount of work-“

“Oh my god, shut up,” Kuroo says under his breath. He peeks out from around the tree, watching as Kenma strolls by, his gaze on the ground and hands shoved down the sides of his pants as always. He can hear Kenma’s voice in his head - “_it keeps me warm, Kuro, don’t make it weird.” _His heart squeezes tight in his chest.

Oikawa’s head is just far enough to the side that he can very clearly see who the two of them are hiding from. For perhaps the first time in his life, Kuroo thinks, Oikawa is silent. That is, until Kenma’s far enough away, and Oikawa mutters, “Tetsu-chan…”

“It’s fine,” Kuroo says brusquely. It isn’t fine, not in the least, but Kuroo really doesn’t want to talk about it. Not with Oikawa, who Kuroo knows texts his childhood best friend on a daily basis. Not with anyone, really, but _especially _not with Oikawa. He sighs. “I just don’t want to see him right now. Okay?”

“He was your friend,” Oikawa muses. _You have no idea, _Kuroo wants to scream, and he doesn’t even comprehend why. “Everyone says you were really close, like pretty much inseparable, and now you literally can’t even be on the same pathway. I don’t know what the hell happened, but something has to change, y’know. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“Just for now,” Kuroo says. He feels pathetic, and truthfully, he is. Kenma is _Kenma_. Kenma had been there for almost every important milestone in Kuroo’s life: the first time he’d spiked a volleyball, the first time he’d kissed someone, the first time he’d had his heart broken, the first time he’d gone to the hospital, God, almost every first had been with Kenma. And now he is avoiding him as though Kenma has the plague. All because of some stupid argument about something that doesn’t even matter in the long run.

Kuroo flexes his foot and gives his ankle a slight twirl. It’s a little stiff, but it’s not painful. He’s managed to keep his injury not only safe, but also a secret from the entirety of his team. _So there, Kenma, _Kuroo thinks in the privacy of his own head. _I’m totally fine. You were worried about nothing. I was right._

Somehow it’s much less satisfying when he can’t even say it to Kenma’s face.

He turns to Oikawa, who still looks unimpressed. “Let’s just go,” Oikawa says with a sigh. “But I hope you get over yourself soon. Life’s no fun without your best friend, Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo follows Oikawa, but his words echo in Kuroo’s head. _Life’s no fun without your best friend. _Bitterly, he thinks that he has new friends now: he’s had Bokuto for a while now, and Oikawa and the rest of his team as well. He knows it’s not the same, though. He doesn’t tell any of them everything that’s on his mind, doesn’t know them as deeply and fully as he knows, _knew_, Kenma. As he contemplates this, Bokuto runs up to them. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“You just missed it, Kou-chan,” Oikawa sings. “If you’d been here just a few minutes ago, you could’ve been pulled into the bushes with me to avoid Tetsu-chan’s ex-boyfriend!”

“Ex-boyfriend?” Bokuto scrunches up his nose. “I didn’t know he had one of those!”

“The way he talks about Pudding-chan, it seems like he might as well be his ex-boyfriend,” Oikawa says, grinning. “Tetsu-chan’s avoiding him at all costs, it seems.”

“I don’t understand,” Bokuto says. “You two were so close! I thought it was so sweet, how you were always looking after him!”

“Yeah, well,” Kuroo says lamely, “people change.”

Bokuto frowns. “Man, you haven’t changed that much! You’re still the same old cool dude! Just, well…” He pauses, glancing down at the ground in a move that is so entirely un-Bokuto that it raises Kuroo’s suspicions immediately.

“Just what?” Kuroo presses. He’s not entirely sure if he even wants an answer at this point. Hearing what his friends really think might be enough to shock him out of the bubble he’s let himself slip into.

“Just not as happy,” Bokuto says slowly. “It always seemed like… like Kenma made you really happy. You were always smiling when you were around him. You don’t smile like that anymore.”

It’s exactly what Kuroo had feared. God, he’d known that he’d been in a slump for some time now, but hearing it from his friend is something else altogether. He’s been that obvious, then. He finds himself snarling, “There’s nothing I can do about it, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Was it that bad of a fight?” Bokuto presses. “Did you do something unforgivable? Did he? I think you should just talk to him; nothing can be _this _bad, and I really think he’s been missing you too…”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Kuroo interrupts, his voice a little rougher than he’d anticipated. His head is starting to hurt. God, he really can’t talk about this anymore. He pushes past his friends forcefully. “I’ve got places to be. I’ll see you two later.”

He can hear their voices trailing after him, but he doesn’t look back.

.

Oikawa’s retribution comes later that night when both of them end up at the dorm room. It’s not in Oikawa’s nature to apologize, so he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “I didn’t know it was that sensitive of a subject,” and Kuroo can read between the lines easily enough.

“I don’t know what to do,” Kuroo says. It’s half a whisper, half a plea.

“We won’t talk about it anymore,” Oikawa says, “but I think you know what you should do.”

Bokuto sends him a text later that night as well. _Sorry bro didnt mean to push you too far!! But you two were so close!! Id hate to see it end like that!!_

Kuroo’s sleep is restless, packed with images he’s tried to make himself forget - a park with two boys perched on adjacent swings, the pure admiration in Kenma’s eyes when Kuroo had swung up to the top of the swings, practically, declaring himself the king of the world. Kenma hadn’t said anything along those lines, of course, but Kuroo had known. Just the same way he had been able to tell when Kenma was feeling particularly anxious or angry or sad or amused or excited, just the same way Kenma had been able to tell exactly what he was feeling at each and every point in time. They had been that close. And yet, they'd let a tiny chip drive a hole in their friendship.

Despite Bokuto and Oikawa's pleas, absolutely nothing changes. Kuroo keeps avoiding Kenma, though not as drastically. He doesn't try to jump in any bushes or drag his friends behind any bushes. Instead, he tries to channel all the pent up anger and anxiety and, well, feelings that come with seeing Kenma into volleyball - into the way he slams the ball with a crack onto the other side of the court. He watches as the ball smacks onto the court with mild satisfaction, loving the way that the team he's practicing against crashes to the ground in an attempt to get their hands on the ball, the way that they all stare up at him with mild annoyance as they push themselves back up. It's exactly what he's good for, Kuroo thinks. Messing things up. But it's something he's long accepted about himself.

Practice goes well, along those lines, until it all comes tumbling down.

Oikawa sends him a good set, nice and high, just the way Kuroo likes it. He does his usual run-up and leaps off the ground, hitting the ball with a satisfying crack. It's a good hit, Kuroo's sure. He's ready to celebrate when his foot hits the ground and there's yet another crack - this time, not from the ball.

Well shit, is all Kuroo can think as he collapses backwards on his ass.

There's a chorus of yells around him. Bokuto yelling even louder than usual, something along the lines of 'bro, are you okay?', a mild shriek from Oikawa, and a lot of 'get some ice! don't move him!'. But there's one voice that's much clearer than all the rest.

"Kuro," comes the voice, quiet but frantic, Kuroo knows. "Shit, Kuro."

Then Kenma's right beside him, those big, golden eyes filled with worry as they look at him. He stares at Kuroo for a couple of seconds before he says, in a voice that wavers, but tone firm, "Everyone back up. Don't crowd him."

Kenma manages to untie his shoe, then slowly pulls it off his foot. Kuroo tries not to wince despite the pain that's shooting through his entire foot with every small movement. He can feel Kenma's eyes on his face, searching to make sure Kuroo's doing okay, and that in itself makes Kuroo want to be strong.

Once he gets the shoe off, Kuroo can feel Kenma's small hand on his foot, prodding at his ankle. He presses down lightly. "Does that hurt?"

Kuroo hisses. "Fuuuuu.... yeah," he manages through gritted teeth. Kenma moves his foot the slightest bit, and Kuroo bites down on his lip to keep from yelling. "Shit. That too. God."

"Sprained again," Kenma mutters under his breath. He stands up and then extends a hand down to Kuroo. It takes Kuroo a good few seconds to process what's going on, and then he realizes that he has to get off the ground. He doesn't want to, really. He'd be content to stay on the ground forever. But Kenma is there, reaching out a hand to him for the first time in an entire year, and that's enough to make him reach out and take it.

Once he gets to his foot, avoiding his sprained ankle completely, Kenma slides under his arm. "Lean on me," Kenma says. There's no question in his voice. Kenma's always been like that with him more than he is with anyone else; he'd taken the initiative the first time that they'd met, offered to play games with Kuroo. And now here he is, doing the same thing again with an injured Kuroo. Kuroo feels very pathetic all of a sudden.

He leans his weight onto Kenma nonetheless, letting Kenma support him as he hobbles over to the bench. There's a frenzy of voices and blurred movements and then they've got a nurse or something looking at his foot. After just a few minutes of examination, the nurse looks back up at Kuroo and shakes his head. "We're gonna have to do some X-rays," he says. "The swelling's pretty bad."

Don't let it be a break, Kuroo chants inside of his head. It's too late now to avoid any time off, but with a sprain, he can be playing again in a few weeks. Not so much with a break. Please, please, just let it be a sprain.

The nurse points him towards the door, and Kenma's at his side again, wordlessly draping Kuroo's arm over his shoulders. Kuroo doesn't say anything until they get outside. "You don't have to do this," he says, his words breathy with the exertion of hobbling on one foot.

"Yes, I do," Kenma says firmly. There's no room for argument, Kuroo can tell. Kenma's made up his mind about what he wants to do, and what he wants to do, it seems, is be with Kuroo, for now. Kuroo's missed this so badly it hurts. But there's still just one thing he has to take care of.

"I'm sorry," Kuroo says, and the words come out all jumbled because the sobs that are starting to amalgamate in his throat. "I'm so sorry, Kenma. I should've never said those things to you. I was stupid, okay, so fucking stupid, and I've missed you so much..."

Kenma looks up at him from under Kuroo's arm. His eyes are a little bit cloudy, but it doesn't show in his voice as he says, "I know," and then, in a little bit of a softer tone, "I'm sorry too. And... I missed you too."

Kuroo can't help the fact that a few tears leak out of his eyes at that. This is what he's been hoping for for months, after all, but he'd never actually imagined that it could happen. He has Kenma back. Kenma doesn't hate him. He can talk to Kenma again. It's almost worth the sprained ankle.

Oh, shit. His ankle.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Kuroo says, trying to make his voice as steady as possible. "You were right about my damn ankle the whole time. And yet here I am, the world's biggest fool, out for another couple of months because I wasn't careful enough."

Kenma glances up at him. There's nothing smug in his gaze, nothing taunting like Kuroo's sure had been in his eyes when he'd thought he'd been the one that was right. Kenma shrugs. "I didn't want to be right."

God, there's nothing that could make Kuroo feel guiltier. He frowns down at Kenma. "It's my own fault. Guess I'm out for a good couple of weeks, at the least. More, if it's broken."

"I don't think it is," Kenma says carefully, "but I'm not a doctor."

"Could've fooled me," Kuroo says. "You could've gone to medical school in the year we were apart."

Kenma's head snaps up, his eyes wide, probably because of Kuroo's stupid ass joke about the time they'd spent not talking. Slowly, though, his features soften, and then he gives a small, undignified snort. Kuroo wonders what the weird sensation in his chest is. The entire thing is oddly endearing. "You're so stupid," Kenma says, but the tone sounds almost affectionate.

With the help of Kenma and the nurse, he's able to get to the local clinic, where they run a quick X-Ray of his ankle. Relief floods him all at once when the doctor tells him that it's just a sprain again, not a break, and Kuroo feels as though he might just collapse on the spot.

The doctor glares a little bit at him, though, as he says, "But you'd better be more careful out there. This is a repeat injury. Your ankle is going to be more susceptible to sprains."

When he glances over at Kenma, sitting over in the corner, the look on Kenma's face is finally smug again. _Little shit_, Kuroo thinks to himself, and then marvels in the fact that he can think such things without feeling miserable again.

They head back to campus in relative silence. There's still a lot that Kuroo wants to say to Kenma, but he can't figure out where to start. Kenma seems reluctant to initiate anything of the sort as well. Kuroo glances down at his phone. Bokuto and Oikawa have sent about a hundred messages, declaring he meet them for dinner to update him on the situation, which Kuroo isn't sure if that refers to the situation with his ankle or the situation with one Kozume Kenma.

Kuroo gathers up all of his courage at once as he lifts his head to look at Kenma. "Hey," he says. "Would you... want to go to dinner with me? And the others from the team, of course, but-"

Kenma cuts him off with an indifferent look on his face. "Sure," Kenma says, like it's no big deal.

Kuroo's heart skips in his chest, and then it starts to pump faster than it has in a long time.

.

Kuroo finds over the course of the dinner that so much has changed, and yet nothing at all.

It feels surreal to look up and see Kenma sitting across from him. He can hardly believe that they're talking again.

He'd met up with Kenma in front of the campus eatery. Kenma had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, slumped over as usual to tap at a game on his phone. Kuroo had been afraid to touch him; it almost seemed that if he were to reach out a hand to touch Kenma that the illusion would shatter and Kenma would disappear. So he had just cleared his throat. "Hey. Uh, you hungry?"

Kenma had glanced up, those eyes of his looking the slightest bit afraid. Still, he'd just shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

Kuroo had nodded and opened the door for him. It had felt weird and uncomfortable, not like the fluid ways they'd used to move around each other back when they were in high school. Oikawa and Bokuto's heads had snapped up, their curious eyes flickering from Kuroo to Kenma and then back to Kuroo, eyebrows raised in curiosity and accusation. Not now, Kuroo had tried to mouth back in return. He'd explain later, though he still wasn't a hundred percent sure what he'd say.

Now he's sitting at the dinner table, shoveling rice into his mouth with Kenma by his side. He starts off the conversation by asking about their last volleyball season. Both Bokuto and Oikawa exchange a glance, and Kuroo is observant enough to know exactly what it means - he hadn't even kept up with his alma mater's season? But it had stung too much to think about the team without him, the team with Kenma as the captain, when he wasn't talking to Kenma himself.

Kenma blinks and then shrugs. "The team was different than last year, I guess. Lev got a little bit better. He stopped being so useless and crashing into the net. Tora was still loud. The first years were... one was really hard to work with. Not as bad as Lev, but close. The others were okay, though. And we went to Nationals again."

"You did?!" Kuroo suddenly feels guilty. His team had gone to Nationals, under the leadership of his... ex-best friend, he supposes. He doesn't know how else to refer to Kenma. "How far did you get?"

"Not all that far." Kenma's eyes flicker over to Oikawa and Bokuto, as if he's suddenly realized it's just the two of them. Kuroo can see the blush that creeps up on the edges of Kenma's cheeks at the way their eyes are fixated on him. Still, in a way that's unlike the Kenma he used to know, Kenma keeps going. "We got out in the third round, I think. It was hard because our team was so, uh, inconsistent."

A smile tugs at the edge of Kuroo's lips. "That sounds like a nice way of saying that they were shit."

"Well, Pudding-chan, at least your team made it to Nationals," Oikawa says, an undertone of bitterness in his voice. "You went to Nationals twice in your volleyball career. That's impressive."

Kenma glances up at Oikawa. "Shouyou said that Aoba Johsai wasn't bad last year."

Oikawa gives a wry smile in response. "Still not good enough for Nationals."

"The Miyagi region has become oddly competitive," Kuroo chimes in. "All these country boys blooming up from the farm ground. Speaking of, where's your best Miyagi buddy, Oikawa?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Oikawa says.

Kuroo grins. There's nothing in this world quite as fun as getting under Oikawa's skin, Kuroo's found, and the best way to do that is to mention anything related to Ushijima Wakatoshi. "Oh, I think you do. You know, you were looking at him an awful lot during practice today-"

"I was not," Oikawa interrupts firmly. There's something a bit off about his tone, a little testier than his usual "I-hate-Ushijima" type voice, but Kuroo can't quite figure out what it means. "I specifically told him not to come, so there."

Kuroo thinks it's a little bit odd, still; first that Oikawa's tone seems more bothered than usual, and second that Oikawa had gone so far as to literally tell Ushijima not to come, but he decides not to dwell on it. Instead, he starts up another conversation about how Kenma's liking classes so far. Kenma tells him that his classes are fine, that they're more interesting, at least, than the classes he'd been taking in high school. He says that he's started designing his own game. This intrigues Kuroo; he'd always known Kenma would probably have a penchant for game design, what with the amount of hours Kenma wastes on them. However, he hadn't known for sure that Kenma was actually interested in pursuing it. He wants to know more, to ask about the plot and characters and play style of Kenma's game, but it's getting late at that point and almost all of them are done eating.

As they leave the restaurant, Kuroo realizes that he should probably say something. Kenma's got his hands shoved back in his pockets and he's shrinking down. There's a part of Kuroo that wants to reach out to him, to wrap him up in a hug to reassure him that Kenma's still there. But they'd never been super physically affectionate with each other. Instead, he lets the corner of his mouth turn up. "I'll text you later, Kenma."

Kenma looks a little surprised for a second, but then his facial features soften. "Okay, Kuro."

Kuro. He'd never thought he'd be called that name again. It sends a chill down his spine as he limps off in the other direction, letting Oikawa support his weight.

Of course, Oikawa starts in as soon as Kenma's out of earshot.

"I thought you two weren't talking anymore!" he says, hands perched dramatically on his hips. "And then you get hurt and suddenly Pudding-chan's right there at your side, crying like your his spouse who's just been injured in the fucking war or something."

"He wasn't crying."

"He may as well have been!" Oikawa protests. "I've never seen so much emotion from him, like, ever."

"Yeah, well, you don't know him like I do," Kuroo says absently. To most people, Kuroo's certain, Kenma doesn't come across as particularly emotional. He's gotten scarily good at hiding his emotions, save for when he's tired or particularly annoyed. But Kuroo sees the minutiae that change based on Kenma's mood. And he's seen him when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's excited, when he's devastated.

Kenma feels. He feels deeply. Kuroo knows this for a fact.

But of course Oikawa wouldn't.

Kuroo just shrugs. "Our fight... it was about something stupid, anyways. Never should've happened in the first place. And now I apologized, and he apologized, so we're going to... put it behind us. Y'know, start over."

"Well, I'm glad, Tetsu-chan~" Oikawa says, his tone somewhere in between teasing and sincerity. "You looked completely miserable for a while there. But when you're talking to Pudding-chan... well, there's a little bit of a spark in your eyes that makes me think you're not completely dead inside!"

Kuroo ignores the subtle jab. Over the course of the past year, he's become rather well-versed in the subtle art of ignoring Oikawa Tooru. However, another voice pipes up that's a little more difficult to ignore, at least in Kuroo's experience.

"Won't it be weird to start completely over with someone you've known your entire life?" Bokuto says, draping an arm around his shoulders. "Like, isn't it a little bit awkward?"

Throughout the first ten years that Kuroo had known Kenma, there had never really been a situation between the two of them that Kuroo would describe as awkward. Maybe when Kuroo got his first kiss, a little, but Kenma had just looked shocked for a moment before he'd said, "Okay, good for you," and kept playing his game. And, well, yeah, sure, the past year had been beyond awkward, but now that nightmare is over, so things should be able to return to homeostasis between the two of them... right?

Kuroo shakes his head. "I hope not."

"Bro, I hope not too!" Bokuto says, beaming from ear to ear, so genuine that Kuroo can't even begrudge his kind of awkward question. "I mean, I always thought you guys were like, soulmates or somethin'! Like I was super shocked when you weren't talking anymore! 'Kaashi was too! But this is good! Maybe we can all hang out together again!"

"Sure, maybe." Kuroo's not convinced watching Bokuto make a fool of himself in front of Akaashi Keiji is the best usage of his time, since Bokuto seems to be under the impression that Akaashi's the coolest person on the planet or whatever. But he gets the feeling he'll be dragged into it anyways.

There's something about the day, though, that leaves Kuroo with a light feeling in his chest, despite the pain still flooding his ankle. He hopes he can keep it there for a while, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!!  
I wanted to say thank you to everyone who left your lovely comments on the first chapter, so here's me posting the rest of what I have written so far. I'm hoping that I'll get my inspiration back for this story soon!!   
Thank you so much for your comments, and please, keep it up!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know I just finished a social media AU of the same name: https://twitter.com/todxrxki/status/1163468545969336321. Originally, this social media AU was a fanfiction, and well, I decided to post the parts I've already written to get some feedback and hopefully get motivated to finish the entire fanfiction version.   
I know Kuroo is fairly OOC in the beginning of this fic. There's an explanation for it though (and he gets better later on, trust me)!  
Thank you so much for reading, and please, leave a comment if you'd like me to continue :)


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